Walking the dog

On the exact anniversary of my father's baptism 90 years ago (also on Palm Sunday - it snowed...), we take Finn for one of his favourite walks. It's the opportunity for people to fuss over him, the chance he might meet a dog his own size to play with (instead we meet a 16 stone St. Bernard), and the interesting smells that get him excited. But mostly it's the pitstop we make halfway round for coffee and a blueberry muffin. Crumbs always - always - fall on the ground.
My father had a sweet tooth. I'm sure he would've approved.